Ziva's Secret
by Smackalicious
Summary: Ziva finds herself caught between two worlds when tragedy unfurls. McGiva. Season 6 spoilers. WIP, see author's note for further details. Chapter 14 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Ziva's Secret  
Pairing: eventual McGee/Ziva  
Rating: PG-13, to be safe  
Genre: Het  
Cat: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy  
Spoilers: Season 6 in general, episodes mentioning "Ziva's secret" (hence the title).  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: Ziva finds herself caught between two worlds when tragedy unfurls.  
Author's Note: Basically, my take on "Ziva's secret," who she's going to see in Israel. Name is based off a spoiler I've read. I don't even know for sure if that's the case. Anyway.**

**Additional author's note: I have 10 chapters of this completed and it is still very much a WIP. I'll post what I have one chapter every day or so, and then post whenever I finish new chapters. I don't usually post WIPs on here, but this one is just begging to be posted here. And the chapters get longer as the story continues, don't worry.  
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Ziva smiled to herself as she stepped onto the elevator, gazing at the plane ticket in her hand. She was eager for this trip, for the time away from Tony's prying. She had to roll her eyes at that. He was so juvenile. It was the main reason she hadn't told him whom she was going to visit.

Her smile faded as she thought about how Tony had looked when she left. She felt bad for not telling him about Michael, but she would have told him had he not acted like such a control freak with her life. Ever since she'd returned to NCIS, Tony seemed to be taking extra care to be aware of every detail of her life, not to mention everyone else's, but mostly hers. She supposed it was his way of saying he cared, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

As she climbed into her car, she thought about Michael. Reconnecting with him had been . . . amazing. It had been so long since she'd last seen him . . . but he always had a place in her heart. She had been so thrilled with their reconnection, she had went and mentioned him in her next e-mail to McGee without even thinking. McGee had, of course, wondered who Michael was, not to be nosy (yes, of course he was curious, but it wasn't his main motivation for asking), but because Ziva had mentioned the name without explaining its significance. She couldn't very well lie, saying he was simply a co-worker, because she had used his name with far too much enthusiasm for that. So she told McGee the truth.

He had been relatively surprised, but he was happy for her. She smiled to herself at the thought. It felt good to be able to tell someone about her life in Israel, about what she had left for NCIS.

There had been strife when she had decided to stay in the U.S., and it had created a chasm between herself and Michael, one she never thought she would be able to recover. But just seeing him again, she knew. Their connection would never be severed, no matter how many years or miles separated them.

And now, she was on her way to see him again. She could relax first class on the trip to her homeland, thinking about nothing but throwing her arms around him.

She also didn't need to worry about Tony finding out who her mystery visitor was. McGee was a trustworthy friend and besides, he wouldn't say anything if he wanted to live. She had made that perfectly clear. Not that she would truly go through with it, but he knew better than to defy her wishes.

As Ziva leaned back in her seat, preparing to sleep her way to Israel, she went over the words she would say when she saw Michael again. "I love you" was never discussed, more of an unspoken knowledge between them, and "I missed you" was a given. That left the simplest, most traditional greeting she could think of.

"Shalom . . . brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Ziva's father, as a way of bringing his children - well, stepchildren - together, had paid for the trip. Michael was the son of Eli's second wife, but he was in Ziva's life a lot growing up, and was there when her father or Ari couldn't be there. Their bond was strong, as if they were indeed blood relatives. They had gone through the occasional rift, including after Ari died, which had nearly brought a permanent end to their relationship. But Ziva had felt lost coming back to Israel, and she knew if there was one person she could turn to, who would listen to her, it was Michael.

During her time in Israel, Ziva found herself discovering even more about herself, and she talked through her discoveries with Michael. He didn't know anyone at NCIS, he knew only a few Mossad officers . . . It was refreshing to talk to someone not even in law enforcement for once. She could talk about her life outside of work, and he wanted to hear about it because he could relate, she was just his stepsister. And because he didn't know her co-workers, he could listen to her talk about them without suggesting any actions for her to take. Yes, it was about Tony, but he wasn't the only member of the team . . .

Ziva's thoughts were disrupted by the voice of the captain announcing their arrival in Tel Aviv. She smiled and prepared to exit the plane . . .

"Zivaleh."

The greeting was a refreshing and needed breath of air. Ziva broke into a wide grin, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around him, just as she had imagined.

"Shalom, brother."

. . . Ziva couldn't keep the smile from her face as she boarded the plane to return to the U.S. The vacation to her homeland had been all she had hoped it would be, full of family and friends, love and laughter. Ever since she'd come back to Israel earlier in the year, things had been the way they'd never been before, and Ziva liked to think it was because her family – what little of it she had left, anyway – had finally come to realize that they'd come close to losing her again, and even if she was thousands of miles away in the United States, she was still family.

And she was happy.

It had hurt to see at first, how she would rather be with a group of _strangers _than her own blood, especially when her boss there had been responsible for Ziva's brother's death (in their eyes, at least). But it had been even more heart-breaking to see the dried tears on her face when she'd answer the door, her eyes red from crying. It was clear she was in pain, she wanted desperately to be with her colleagues at NCIS, the people who had taken her in as family.

But there was more to it than that. There always was. And what Ziva had discovered about herself, she hadn't discussed with anyone besides Michael. This trip had been to talk with him further about it, to solidify her decision. He had backed her up 100 percent and wished her good luck. She smiled at the thought as the plane descended onto the runway and she took in the now familiar lights of DC. She had already made the decision that tonight was going to be the night, that she would head straight to his place once she left the airport.

Ziva hurried off the plane, only stopping to retrieve her luggage from baggage claim, then hailed a taxi as she left the airport. With any luck, she wouldn't be headed home until tomorrow, anyway.

She gave the cab driver her instructions and settled back in her seat, going over the words she planned to say to him as soon as he opened his door. She was excited, but nervous. There was no telling how he would take it.

Twenty minutes passed, and the cabbie stopped. "Here ya go, Miss."

"Thank you," Ziva said, handing him the cab fee and grabbing her luggage from the trunk before heading to the apartment building.

She took the elevator to his floor, and just as she was walking up to his door, her cell phone rang. She let out a quiet growl of annoyance and pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the caller ID. "Ziva David," she answered, then waited for the other person to speak.

When they did, Ziva dropped her bag to the floor with a loud thud, and nearly dropped her phone, as well, but managed a, "Yes, yes, thank you," before hanging up. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened before she could and she found herself face-to-face with the man she'd come to see.

"Ziva." He sounded surprised. "What are you doing here?" She just stared at him in shock, unable to speak. "Ziva, are you okay?"

Her mouth slowly parted and she finally found the words she'd been seeking. "McGee . . . Michael . . ."

"It's okay, Ziva," she said, giving her a concerned look.

She shook her head. "No, it isn't." She looked at him. "He's dead, Tim. My brother is dead."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Wow, I have no idea if people are actually reading this. I promise the story gets better as it continues._

**Chapter Three**

McGee had guided Ziva inside his apartment, going out to retrieve her luggage from the hallway before returning to her. She was standing in the middle of his living room, looking lost. McGee had managed to guide her to his writing desk, making her sit and then squatting in front of her, prepared to find out what had happened. She remained quiet even after he had squatted down, so he took her hands in his, which seemed to break the spell. She began to speak.

"He was alive when I left. I had went to talk to him about something we'd discussed this summer. It was a wonderful visit, and he helped me make a decision I had been trying to make for months now." She looked down at their joined hands. "That is why I came here rather than going home. I had something I wanted to tell you."

McGee gulped. He was curious about what Ziva was going to tell him, but her brother outweighed that by a mile. "That can wait, Ziva." She looked slightly disappointed, so he assured her, "I really want to know, but right now, I want to help you. What happened?"

She nodded. "I received a phone call right before I got to your door. It was . . ." She shook her head. "There was an explosion. Michael was . . . at work." A few tears ran down her face, and McGee's hold on her hands tightened. "I thought he would be okay, would not get hurt . . . He's not Mossad. He is not anything dangerous." She stopped talking, sniffing back some tears.

"Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do for a living, Ziva," McGee said softly, rubbing the backs of her hands.

Suddenly, Ziva stood, causing McGee to look at her in alarm. "I should not have come here. I need to . . ." She brushed away her tears. "I should go home. I am sorry for bothering you, McGee. You are sweet to listen." She attempted a wobbly smile at him.

He stood and watched as she walked to her bags, then attempted to stop her before she could leave. "Ziva, you don't . . ." She turned to face him and he sighed. "Stay. You're not intruding. I promise."

She shook her head sadly. "I will be fine. I did not drive, so you cannot be worried about that." She turned towards the door again.

McGee rushed after her, grabbing her hand before she could leave. She slowly turned her head to look at him, waiting for him to speak. "You shouldn't be alone. Not . . . not now."

Ziva looked down at the floor, thinking for a moment before speaking. "This is not quite what I had planned."

"Yeah, I know," McGee said softly. "I'm sorry things have to be this way."

She looked up and met his eyes. "There is a reason I came here tonight, you know."

McGee swallowed. "Ziva, I don't want to take advantage of you . . ."

Ziva let out a sad laugh. "I do not think you could even if you tried, McGee."

He nodded. "You're right. And I . . . Don't think this is just about your stepbrother, Ziva. I . . ." He trailed off and looked at the floor, unsure of what to say next.

"I know, McGee," Ziva said, and he looked up at her again. "I did not want things to happen this way." The full force of what had happened to her brother seemed to hit her then, and she began crying again, this time letting the tears overcome her as she started sobbing aloud.

McGee quickly dropped her hand and put his arms around her, an automatic reaction to soothe her pain. Ziva's arms found their way around him, as well, clutching his shirt as she sobbed into his chest and he shushed her, rubbing one hand over her hair and the other over her back.

He closed his eyes and held her, not even sure of what to do to help her. He'd never seen her quite so vulnerable before. Yes, he knew she wasn't made of stone and had emotions like everyone else . . . It was what made him really care about her, as a friend, as something more than that. But he felt unsure of his role now. Of course he would be a friend and give her a shoulder to lean on, but should be offer more? He knew she wanted more, but the question was whether this was the right time or not.

He looked down, noticing that Ziva's sobs had lessened and she was now simply sniffling, her face still buried in his shirt. "Ziva?" he asked cautiously. She looked up at him, her face damp, eyes red and puffy . . . and he still thought she was gorgeous.

Ziva seemed to be able to read his thoughts, because she looked down again, saying, "I cannot be alone," then looked back up at him.

He nodded. "I know. And you won't be." He held her close to him again. "I'll take care of you."

Ziva looked off to the side, her face pressed into McGee's shirt, and knew. He was telling the truth. She then looked up at him, asking the question they were both thinking: "What now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

McGee let out a sigh, running a hand down her arm. "Now . . . we let you grieve. I don't know how you do that, but . . ." He was cut off by Ziva pressing a fierce kiss to his lips. Shocked, he gave in at first, then pushed her away. She looked hurt by the action. He sighed and shook his head. "Is this really what you want?"

She gave him a confused look. "Isn't it what _you_ want, McGee?"

He frowned and swallowed. "I don't want a one-night stand." Ziva looked shocked, and he realized just how harsh his words sounded. "No, that's not what I . . ." He sighed. "You just found out about your brother, Ziva. You're not . . ."

"I'm not what?" Ziva asked, eyes blazing. "I suppose you think I am not thinking clearly, yes?" McGee opened his mouth to answer, but Ziva continued before he could. "Perhaps I was not, if I thought you wanted the same thing I did." She turned and started walking to the door.

"Ziva, what are you doing?" McGee asked, following her. "Where are you going? You can't leave."

"You said . . ." She trailed off, sighing. "Forget it." She opened the door, but McGee put a hand on it, closing it again.

"No, Ziva," he said softly. "I said I would take care of you and I meant it. I don't want to fight with you. Please, Ziva."

She kept her hand on the doorknob, and soon felt McGee's hand over hers. He slowly removed her hand from the knob, and waited for her to face him. She did after a moment, looking him in the eye, her expression begging for forgiveness.

"I am sorry, McGee," she said, her tone now calm. He let out a breath. This was the Ziva he wanted to see. "I am not . . . good with this."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean?" Was she talking about crying, showing her vulnerability, or was she talking about them? Had she changed her mind about them already?

She shrugged lightly. "I do not . . . know how to grieve properly. I always had to . . ." She sighed. "I had to hold things in. I got so used to it, from being around death constantly, from seeing co-workers and friends and family die . . ." She met his eyes. "I thought it would be different with Michael. I did. And maybe that is why . . ." She wiped at her face again. "I am sorry I . . . kissed you. It was the wrong thing to do."

There was a lull, a moment of quiet thought, before McGee said, "It wasn't."

Ziva gave him a surprised look. "But you pushed me away . . . No, McGee, you did the right thing. I care for you, but it should not happen that way. We should not rush into anything." She nodded, as if to assure herself that she believed what she was saying.

He stepped towards her, so they were only inches apart, and told her, "I know. But . . . I want to help you, Ziva. And we can go slow, but if it helps you . . ." He shrugged. "It's not like I didn't enjoy the kiss, if that was what you were thinking."

Ziva smiled, suddenly bashful. "No, I did not think so." She raised her eyes to his, attempting to regain some bravado. "I have been told I am a rather good kisser, actually."

He smiled softly at her, then after a few moments, asked, "Want to talk about him?"

Ziva automatically shook her head and at McGee's frown, said, "But I would like to talk about some other people."

His smile returned, brighter yet somehow more subdued than before. "I'd like that." He took her hands, sharing that gentle smile with her, then after a minute, said, "Uh, sorry I don't really have a couch or anything . . . I'm not really much of an entertainer. We could always go to your place. Unless, um, you wanted to stay here. Or had something different in mind." He grimaced. "Sorry. Um, your choice."

Ziva smiled at his nervousness, then looked around his apartment. "You have a very nice home, McGee. It is a little . . . geeky, but I do not mind." She met his eyes again, then answered the question he was silently asking. "I do not want to go home quite yet."

McGee nodded. "Well, um, like I said, I don't really have a sitting area . . ."

"I know, McGee," Ziva interrupted softly. He seemed to take notice of that, realize what she meant. "I have always imagined you would be a good cuddler."

He smiled at her words. "I never would have guessed you were a cuddler, Ziva."

She gave him a bittersweet smile. "I am not, usually. But right now . . ." She trailed off, shrugging and suddenly avoiding his gaze, instead staring at the floor.

McGee sucked in a breath. She was counting on him, and while he wasn't a very demonstrative person, he did care a lot about Ziva and was willing to do nearly anything for her. Cuddling with her was certainly not too much to ask.

He broke away from his thoughts and looked to Ziva, finding her looking deep in thought, her face a map of concern. He stepped closer to her and waited for her to look up at him. She did after a few moments and he saw the faintest glimmer of hope behind the grief in her eyes. His heart fluttered. This was it.

He spoke, his voice soft and warm. "Then what are we waiting for?" He held his hand out to her and she took it, allowing him to lead her to his bedroom.

As she took off her shoes and sat down on McGee's bed, Ziva let out a deep breath. She was ready to talk, and she was going to start at the beginning. She waited for McGee to settle in next to her, pulling the covers over them and placing an arm around her, then spoke.

"I am who I am because of my father . . ."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

McGee listened intently as Ziva explained her relationships with her family – how her mother had died when she was young, how her father had wanted her and Ari to protect themselves, and how, no matter how well-trained she and her brother were, how they were the best Mossad had, it still couldn't keep her sister from being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Tali was killed the same way Michael was," Ziva said, her fingers toying with McGee's and her head resting on his shoulder. "It is why I learned how to disarm bombs, why I did not argue with my father about being in Mossad. I wanted to prevent other families from the pain and grief I experienced. No one should have to bury a younger sibling, or a child." Her voice dropped. "My father has had to bury three children now. I am all he has left."

McGee's grip on her instinctively tightened. He felt even more of a push to keep her safe now. He knew she was more than capable of protecting herself, even more capable than he was, but sometimes that didn't matter. Sometimes people just needed someone to listen to them, to hold them, to love them.

And McGee was determined to do all of those with Ziva.

He allowed his hand to absently rub her arm. A sudden question came to mind, almost out of nowhere, and he found himself asking it before he could stop himself. "Do you want to have children, Ziva?"

She tensed, then relaxed, turning slightly to look at him. "Why do you ask?" she finally asked in return.

There was no embarrassment or pretense in his response. He smiled. "I don't want you to miss out on your chance."

She smiled slightly in return, squeezing his hand. "To answer your question . . . I do not have a simple answer. I had never really thought much about it until the past few years." She took a deep breath and let it out again. "I know I must act relatively soon if I want children at any point, but right now . . ."

"You're not ready," McGee said softly. He pulled her closer to him. "I know that feeling."

She gave him a surprised look. "You want to have children?"

"Well, yeah." He smiled as Ziva turned slightly on her side to watch him as he spoke. "I always wanted to share a positive family experience with a child. I think every child deserves that."

Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "I completely agree, McGee." She let out a sigh into his shirt. "This does not seem right, talking about bringing new life into the world when Michael's life has just ended."

He squeezed her and rubbed a hand on her arm. "I'm sure he would want you to continue living, Ziva. Did he . . . did Michael have children?"

She didn't answer right away, and McGee soon felt a dampness seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He looked down with sadness in his eyes. "Oh, Ziva . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . ."

She shook her head, lifting it from his chest and looking him in the eye. She wiped at her face. "No, it is alright. I had . . . Michael had two children. And his wife . . ."

"Oh, Ziva, I really am sorry," McGee breathed.

She shook her head again, eyes closed. "I was not finished." She paused, let out a deep breath, and continued. "One of the main reasons we had rekindled was because of his wife. She . . . died two years ago, in a car accident." She finished speaking, remaining silent to allow the words to soak in.

McGee let what she said dial through his mind, then looked at her with sad eyes. "They're orphans now."

Ziva nodded quickly, wiping at her face again. "Yes."

Silence fell shortly again, then McGee asked something Ziva was wondering herself. "What's going to happen to them?"

Ziva let out a sigh. "I do not know. They are not old enough to take care of themselves . . . Sari is only 3, and her brother, Micah, is only 6. They do have a nanny, as Michael was a very busy man, and I would imagine she will take care of them for the time being." She fell silent, and McGee narrowed his eyes at her.

"But . . .?" he urged. She gave him a look that suggested confusion, but he saw right through it. "There's something you're not telling me, Ziva."

She suddenly stood. "I should not have come here. If I would have realized . . ."

"What, Ziva?" McGee was now on his feet, as well, his hands on Ziva's arms, looking into her face in an attempt to understand why she was suddenly shying away from him. "You had no idea your brother was . . . You didn't hear about it until you came here." He let out a frustrated breath. "Ziva, I just want you to get this notion that you shouldn't have come here out of your head. I don't mean to be so adamant about it, but I'm running out of options here." He gave a laugh of disbelief. "I just want to help you, but I can't when you keep running away."

Ziva had silent tears running down her face again. Her face was calm and quiet when she spoke. "I know you mean well, and care about me, which only makes this harder."

"Ziva . . ." McGee breathed, not sure what she was about to say, but having a feeling it wasn't going to be good.

The tears continued to fall as Ziva spoke. "Michael once told me if anything happened to him, he wanted me to take his children as my own." She paused to let those words sink in and then finished. "I may very well have to return to Israel . . . permanently."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

McGee stood in silence, not quite knowing how to respond to Ziva's words. Finally, he said, "Wow."

Ziva nodded. "I know," she responded softly. "If I would have thought of it . . ."

"No," McGee interrupted, moving his hand up to her shoulder. "Don't feel like you shouldn't have come here. I'm glad you did."

She looked to the floor, shaking her head. "It just makes it harder to say goodbye."

"Oh, Ziva," McGee breathed, gathering her to his chest. "Don't think that way. There's no telling what's going to happen. And," he shrugged, "is there anything keeping the children in Israel?"

"I could not bring them here," she muttered quietly. "To risk seeing you, any of the team?"

"What do you mean, Ziva?" McGee asked. "You don't have to quit NCIS. Lots of people at NCIS have kids. _Vance _has kids."

Ziva shook her head. "Gibbs will not like it . . ."

"We'll make it work," McGee said forcefully. Ziva gave him a surprised look and he suddenly looked apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry. This is your choice and I should be respectful . . ."

"Do you mean it?" Ziva interrupted.

He narrowed his eyes. "Of course I mean it. I didn't mean to butt in . . ."

"No," she waved away his words, "I know that. I meant . . . You will help me?"

"Of course I will." To see her so vulnerable, so doubting of everything, was breaking his heart. That wasn't the Ziva he was used to. "I care about you, Ziva. And I want to be there for you in whatever you may need."

"Come to Israel with me." Her eyes were pleading.

For some reason, her request surprised McGee. "Wow. Ziva, I . . ."

She let out a sigh of defeat, then pushed the covers aside, standing. "I am sorry. I am pushing this all on you. This is not your life."

"Ziva, would you sit down?" McGee asked, his voice laced with amused disbelief. "You're being completely irrational."

"I am being myself, McGee," she responded, her voice loud, her eyes closed. "I do not believe in forcing people into situations."

McGee sighed. "You're not forcing me into anything, Ziva. I'm willing to help you out here, do whatever it necessary for you to be able to stay here, not out of some sort of obligation to you because of everything you've told me tonight, but because I care about you. Can't you see that? I want you in my life. And if that means going to Israel . . ."

Ziva spun around, her eyes shining. "You will come with me?"

He laughed. "I never intended on saying no, Ziva. I'm just flattered you trust me enough to want me there."

Ziva sat down gently on the edge of the bed and gave him a small smile. "It is more than trust that is driving me, McGee." She looked away then, feeling a bit shy. Here was McGee, a man she'd grown to trust and depend on day after day in their job, and now, her feelings had deepened for him. She had _kissed _him earlier, for Pete's sake! But it was still nerve wracking, having to balance that fine line between work and what they did away from NCIS, not to mention the added complication Michael's children could bring.

"You okay?" McGee's voice brought her out of her thought, and she nodded, albeit a bit distractedly.

She stared off at the wall as she voiced what was on her mind. "This is not going to be easy, a relationship . . ."

McGee shifted, only slightly nervous about Ziva's words. But he knew what he wanted, what he'd wanted for a very long time, and so there was no hesitation or fear in his voice when he spoke. "It'll only be as hard as we make it." She turned to look at him, surprised by his words. "I'm not saying it's going to be perfect, and I'm sure there will be plenty of times we're ready to give up or wonder why we ever decided to do this in the first place, but I'm willing to work through all that. I've never been terribly good at relationships, but . . ." he gulped, showing the first sign of hesitation, "this is important to me. And . . . I want to be happy. I would assume you want the same."

Ziva smiled softly. "Yes. And I think I have finally come to my senses and have seen what I have ignored for so long." She placed her hand on his and squeezed. "You are a good man. And precisely what I need at this point in my life." Her smile fell. "Especially now."

McGee frowned slightly and held his arm out. She crawled up next to him, curling into his side, the frightening reality of the situation hitting her again. She had come here tonight for no other reason than to take a chance and reveal the true nature of her feelings to McGee, and while she had managed that, it was the least of her concern right now. Her step-brother was dead, and there was a very real possibility that she would soon be raising his children. Her life had suddenly become far more chaotic than she had imagined. It really was a good thing she had McGee.

"Ziva?" McGee's voice again brought Ziva back to the present.

She met his gaze. "I am sorry," she murmured, then looked down at their joined hands. "I was just thinking about everything that has happened." She let out a sigh. "Life is too short, McGee. I should have told you how I felt when I returned to the team, rather than waiting until now. I have wasted too much time."

McGee shook his head, pulling her closer to him. "Don't think that way, Ziva. We're both going to grow old and gray, just like Gibbs."

Ziva let out a surprised laugh at the unexpected joke, but sobered just as quickly, patting McGee's leg absentmindedly. "There was no guarantees for how long any of us will survive, McGee, especially in our profession. It is better to do things without regrets."

He sighed. "I suppose you have a point. But don't you ever think about getting married and having kids, living in the perfect house with a white picket fence?"

"Why, Tim," Ziva said, amused, "I did not take you for such the romantic." He didn't say anything, just shook his head, so Ziva continued. "I never allowed myself such a luxury. I knew there was a very real possibility of it never happening."

"Well, Ziva," McGee started, squeezing her again, "I'm giving you permission to think about it. You know why?" He pulled away from her to look her in the face. "Because I know that's what you want."

He smiled and Ziva mimicked the action, resting her head against his shoulder. "Yes," she murmured into his shirt, "you always seem to know what I need."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

A ringing woke McGee, who had fallen asleep with Ziva as exhaustion overtook them. He reached across Ziva's unconscious form and grabbed his cell, then flipped it open and quietly said, "McGee," before sliding out of bed, not wanting to disrupt Ziva's rest.

"Why are you whispering, McGee?" Tony's voice came over the line.

"Um, I . . . didn't want to . . . wake Jethro," he stuttered in response, grimacing at the bad answer. But he knew he couldn't say anything about Ziva being there, especially not to Tony. The man thought he had a monopoly on her heart. He would be angry and hurt if he found out he was wrong.

"Well, Probalicious, find a dog sitter or something. I need you to help me with something."

McGee glanced back at Ziva, his face wrinkled in concern as he asked, "What's up?"

Tony sighed. "Ziva was supposed to return from Israel today. I went over to her place to welcome her back, but she wasn't there. I tried calling her cell, but she didn't answer. I have no idea where she is, McGee. I called the airport and . . ."

"You want me to help you track down Ziva?" McGee asked, trying not to let his voice reveal how angry that idea made him. If Ziva were genuinely in trouble, then sure, he would definitely help in Tony's search. But as it was . . .

"Yeah, McGee, I'm worried about her."

McGee frowned. "She's a big girl, Tony. She can take care of herself." As he said that, Ziva stirred slightly and made a small noise of discomfort. McGee's frown deepened and he forced his attention back on the phone conversation, hoping to resolve things quickly so he could return to her.

"I know that, McGee," Tony said, voice tense. "It's just not like her."

"What isn't? Ignoring your phone calls?" Some of the anger he'd been trying to hide came out. He couldn't help it. Tony was just so . . . "If I remember correctly, you ignored a lot of her calls when you were undercover."

"Uh, yeah, because I was _undercover_, Probie," Tony's voice came back, just as annoyed. "Might've looked a bit odd to be talking to my NCIS partner when I was supposed to be a film professor." There was a pause, and McGee nearly retorted, but Tony continued before he could. "Whose side are you on, anyway, Probie?"

"Side?" McGee asked incredulously, stepping outside the bedroom. "Why should I have to pick sides, Tony? I didn't even realize there _were _sides _to _pick!"

Tony let out another sigh, this one more frustrated than worried. "Well, you seem to think I'm blowing things out of proportion . . ."

"Because you _are_, Tony," McGee interrupted softly.

"Well, if you're so convinced of that and so sure Ziva's just ignoring me, maybe _you _should try to contact her and get back to me, let me know what happens."

McGee froze, unsure of how to respond to that. He didn't have to "contact" Ziva; she was lying about 10 feet away from him in his bed. He didn't know what to tell Tony, not without giving Ziva away.

"What's going on, McGee?" Tony asked into the silence, sensing there was something McGee wasn't telling him. "Where's Ziva?"

McGee opened his mouth to respond with some smart ass comment, but a strangled cry stopped him short and he dropped the phone is his haste to get back to Ziva.

On Tony's end of the phone, his eyes widened as he heard the scream, and he barked into the phone, "Probie! McGee! Probie! What the hell was that? Probie! Answer me!"

Not receiving a response, he cursed to himself and turned off his phone, running out of the room and to his car, needing to get to McGee's apartment to make sure he was okay.

McGee, meanwhile, had run back into his bedroom to find Ziva curled up in a ball, whimpering into his pillow. He let out a sigh of relief. A nightmare. She was just dreaming. He walked to the bed and smoothed her hair, smiling slightly as she seemed to relax, seemed to realize, even in her dreaming state, that she was safe.

He suddenly cursed as he remembered the abandoned phone in the hallway and ran to pick it up, holding it and seeing that Tony had hung up on him. Crap. He probably thought something was wrong and . . .

"McGee! Open up!"

Holy crap. Was he calling from right outside the apartment building? Though he _had _been trying to track down Ziva, so he probably was still in Silver Spring . . .

"McGee, if you don't open up, I'm breaking down this door!"

McGee ran to the front door, yanking it open before he found himself having to explain to the landlord why he was missing a front door. "Quiet, Tony!" He pulled the older agent inside, closing the door behind him.

Tony looked around in confusion, before settling his gaze on McGee's face. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Tony," a sleepy voice came from behind them. McGee sighed as Tony turned to look at Ziva. "What are you doing here?"

Tony gave McGee a facetious smile, then looked back at McGee, saying, "I could ask you the same thing, Zee-vah." He shook his head, his gaze then falling on her suitcase, looking rather out of place propped against McGee's writing desk. "Oh. Oh. I get it now." He walked over to it, flicking the luggage tag hanging from the handle. "Planning on just moving in, then?" He looked up at McGee. "You'd probably be better off at her place, Probie. It's a lot bigger."

"Tony, stop it," McGee said, his voice and eyes both forceful.

"Okay," Tony said, nodding. "Sure. I'll just go home and let you two get back to keeping secrets from me, okay." He walked dramatically to the door.

"Tony, it's not like that," McGee said, while Ziva watched the exchange with just a little confusion.

"Oh, okay," Tony said, turning around. "So I suppose you were playing Scrabble or something and whoops, you just happened to fall asleep in McGee's bed. I _hate _when that happens."

McGee set his mouth in an angry line. "Tony . . ."

"You are right, Tony," Ziva said softly, having found her voice and figured out why Tony was so upset. "I came here tonight with one thing on my mind."

Tony gave her a look of surprise. "Didn't expect you to admit it that quickly, David."

"I was not finished, Tony," she continued, trying her best not to look at McGee, whom she was sure was giving her concerned looks. She took a deep breath and continued. "The man I was visiting in Israel was my step-brother. I returned tonight and took a cab here, looking to surprise McGee." A pained smile crossed her face as she remembered what had happened next. "I received a phone call just as I was about to knock on McGee's door. It was from Israel."

"Whoa, Ziva, don't tell me . . ." Tony said, his cocky and angry demeanor replaced with sympathy and apology.

Ziva stared at the door just past where Tony stood, her eyes blank and unfocused. "Michael is dead. Killed in a bombing, like Tali . . ."

"Ziva, I honestly didn't . . ." Tony started, his voice soft, walking towards her to offer comfort, but stopping short when he saw the defiant look on McGee's face and the look of loss on Ziva's.

Ziva finally looked up after a few tense minutes of silence. "I know you did not know, Tony. I am sure you would not have been so callous if you had, yes?" Her tone wasn't accusing or bitter, just matter-of-fact, which seemed to be harder to take.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony agreed quietly, nodding. "Um, I'm sorry, Ziva. About everything."

She gave him a small smile, but even though she was looking at him, she still wasn't really _looking _at him. "Thank you, Tony. But not everything that has happened tonight has been bad." She managed a small smile and looked at McGee.

Tony continued to look uncomfortable and nodded again, taking the hint that they'd been having a private night and saying, "Well, um, I suppose I should go now. I'm sorry about your brother, Ziva." He turned to the door.

"Wait," Ziva's voice stopped him, and McGee suddenly found himself feeling less sure of her feelings for him. She must have sensed his concern, because she reached over and touched his hand, assuring him that why she wanted Tony to wait had nothing to do with romantic interest.

Tony paused at the door and slowly turned around. The sight of Ziva's hand now gently resting in McGee's wasn't something he particularly wanted to see, but he swallowed and nodded, signaling he was ready for whatever Ziva had to say.

"I need to return to Israel for some time," she said. "There is the funeral, and I have to take care of some . . . other things that may take some time." She looked to McGee and he squeezed her hand.

Tony frowned, sensing there was even more she wasn't telling him. "Well, I'll cover for you with Gibbs, that isn't a problem, but somehow I think you're still leaving something out. I mean, McGee's gonna be here . . ." He trailed off as he realized what was going on. "No way," he said, his voice incredulous. "Gibbs will never agree to McGee going with you, Ziva."

"I _have _to go, Tony," McGee said, his voice soft, yet demanding. "There's more to this than meets the eye."

Tony gave McGee a look. "You don't say. What now? Don't tell me you two are getting married."

"No, Tony," Ziva assured him. She looked down briefly at her hand in McGee's, then back up at Tony. "I am going to become a mother."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tony nearly had to pick up his jaw from the floor. "You . . . Just how long has this been going on?" he asked, then shook his head. "No way. _That's _what you came to tell McGee tonight?"

"No, Tony," McGee assured him. "Ziva's not pregnant. At least, I don't think she is. And even if she was, it wouldn't be with my baby. Not that I . . ."

"Let me handle this, okay?" Ziva broke into his rambling. She turned back to Tony. "My step-brother had two children. Their mother died two years ago, and they are not old enough to care for themselves, especially not in a place like Israel."

Tony sagged in relief that Ziva wasn't about to have McGee's lovechild, but then thought further on her words. "Wait - so, what? You're going to Israel to just adopt these kids?"

"_Possibly _adopt," McGee corrected. Tony gave him a questioning look and he said, "Sorry. I'll, uh, I'll let Ziva do the talking."

Tony looked at Ziva, who nodded. "Yes. Right now, this is simply speculation. I have not even heard anything from anyone regarding the children."

Tony blew out a breath. "Then why even bother bringing it up? You're setting yourself up for a big letdown, Ziva. I mean, you're so set on going over there and taking custody of these kids . . . when you don't even know if you're in the picture. I mean, someone has to be taking care of them, yeah?" Ziva simply stared at him, not saying anything, but Tony could see that she knew he was right. He shrugged. "If you're still going . . ."

"Of course I am going, Tony," Ziva said. "I have to at least see what is to become of the children. And," she shrugged, "if I do not like what I see, I will petition for custody, anyway." She gave him a pointed look.

Tony raised his eyebrows as if saying, 'You're making a mistake,' or 'You don't know what you're getting yourself into,' but chose not to argue with her, instead saying, "It's your life. I'm not going to tell you what to do."

Ziva snorted lightly. "That does not sound like the Tony I know."

"Yeah, well, Ziva," he responded, tossing his car keys in the air and catching them before continuing, "can't say I expected this tonight, either. I'd suggest one of you call Gibbs, because somehow I don't think he'll believe me." He turned to the door, putting his hand on the doorknob. "Good luck in Israel."

And with that, he left, McGee and Ziva staring at the empty space he left behind. After a moment, Ziva spoke, her voice steady, but infused with anger. "He really has some nerve, coming in here and telling me how I am going to react. We will just have to go prove him wrong."

McGee let out a breath, his forehead creased in concern. He slowly opened his mouth, knowing he might just make things worse by speaking, but also knowing something needed to be said. "He's right, you know."

Ziva swung her head toward him, her eyes a mixture of the anger from earlier, confusion and surprise. "What?"

He shrugged. "Tony. He had a point. If we go to Israel convinced you're going to be bringing Michael's children to America . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I just don't want to see you disappointed if that doesn't happen."

Ziva stared at the floor for a moment, then looked up at McGee, smiling. She reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks and said, "You are sweet."

He returned the smile, asking, "And . . .?"

Ziva's smile fell, turning into a sober look, and she dropped her hands from McGee's face, relegating them to his palms instead. She stared down at their joined hands as she spoke. "And . . . I am now more determined than ever to get to Israel as soon as possible."

McGee frowned. "Of course, Ziva. I assumed that already."

She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "I am determined to return to Israel and I will not come back without Sari and Micah."

McGee let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Oh, Ziva . . ."

She gave him a fierce look. "Michael told me himself that he wanted me to have the children should something happen to him, even knowing what I do for a living. They do not have anyone else, only a nanny who is paid to care for them. Tim," her eyes softened and her voice changed to a more pleading tone as she squeezed his hands, "right now, no one can love those children as I can. I have seen far too much death, too much suffering. I will not allow them to be subjected to a life . . ." She suddenly stopped, dropping his hands and backing up. "I am sorry. I do not know what got into me."

McGee stared at her, his eyes glistening with emotion, and said thickly, "Love, Ziva. That's what got into you. You love those children, and I'll be damned if I'm going to deny you and them the chance at happiness you all deserve."

Ziva broke into a smile, tears forming in her eyes, and she returned to him. "And you, Tim. Like it or not, you are a part of my life. And soon to be a part of Sari and Micah's, as well."

McGee smiled, throwing his arms around her. "I definitely like being a part of your life, Ziva, no doubt about that."

Ziva snuggled into him, then asked the inevitable question: "So, which one of us is going to tell Gibbs?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"No, Ziva, I can pack my own suitcase," McGee said, his phone held to his ear. "Go, um, take a nap or something."

Ziva poked her head up from the drawer she had been rummaging through, pointing a pair of socks at him. "I want to be fully conscious for this conversation with Gibbs."

He rolled his eyes, coming at her and taking the socks from her hand. "Fine, but stay away from my clothes, please."

"I hate to break it to you, Timothy," Ziva began, still riffling through his garments, then looked up, "but if you're embarrassed about me seeing your underwear, well then . . ." She trailed off, letting out a low whistle and turning back to the drawer.

McGee glared at the back of her head as the phone rang and he waited for Gibbs to pick up. "I am not . . . Gibbs." His attention was forced to shift focus as his boss answered. Ziva looked up, nervous but interested in the conversation.

"Yeah, McGee," Gibbs' voice came over the line. "What's wrong?"

"Um, Ziva's back from Israel," McGee said, grimacing to himself about how nervous he sounded.

Gibbs laughed. "Didn't realize that was a _bad _thing, McGee."

McGee closed his eyes in frustration and shook his head as though Gibbs could see the action over the line. "No, no, that's not what I meant . . ."

"Spit it out, McGee," Gibbs said, the sternness returning to his voice. "Is she hurt? Someone else?"

"Boss, I . . ." McGee sighed, finding it difficult to say what he wanted to say. Soon, however, he didn't need to, as Ziva plucked the phone from his hand and held it to her ear.

"Gibbs," she said, simply announcing the change in speakers.

Gibbs let out a frustrated growl. "What the hell is going on, Ziva?"

She flinched slightly at his words. McGee noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and spoke. "I have to return to Israel. A . . . a family member has died, and I must return for the funeral." She met McGee's eyes again and he nodded, encouraging her to continue. "And there are some other things I must attend to, as well."

Gibbs let out another breath, this one heavy and apologetic. "Yeah, yeah, of course. You . . . Are you at Tim's?"

She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see it, and felt the involuntary trickle of tears down her face. McGee noticed and moved behind her, rubbing her shoulders and allowing her to use him as a point of support. "Yes. I . . . have not even been home yet, actually."

This time when Gibbs sighed, it was a, 'I should have seen this coming,' sigh. "Okay. I suppose you're not wanting to go alone, huh?"

"Yes, I was actually hoping . . ."

"Yeah, of course," Gibbs interrupted softly. "McGee. I know." He let out another breath. "Damn, Ziva."

Ziva closed her eyes, leaning back into McGee's comforting touch. "I apologize for our timing . . ."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Ziva," Gibbs assured her. "Now, can you at least tell me what this other business is, or is that confidential?"

Ziva wiped her face with the back of her hand. "No, no, that I can tell you." She paused, and McGee squeezing her shoulder made her continue. "The deceased was my step-brother. He had two children."

"Aw, Christ, Ziva," Gibbs breathed. "I don't suppose there's anyone else to take them?"

Again, Ziva shook her head. "Only the nanny."

On Gibbs' end of the phone, he swabbed a hand over his face. "Well . . . I trust your instincts, Ziva. I just hope both you and Tim realize what you're getting yourself into. Children are not easy, Ziva. And you're taking on two huge tasks at once here. I don't have my doubts that you can do it, but I hope you can see it won't be easy."

Ziva actually smiled through her tears. "I am not as naïve as to think it would be, Gibbs." Behind her, McGee squeezed her shoulder.

"Good to hear it, Ziva," Gibbs said. There was a small silence, then he said, "I suppose I should call DiNozzo and let him know you two will be gone for awhile."

"No need," Ziva said softly. "He just left here."

"Son-of-a . . ." Gibbs swore to himself, then asked, "I don't suppose he left you with any well wishes?"

Ziva snorted. "Not quite." She paused. "It is just that . . ."

"I know what it is, Ziva," Gibbs interrupted. "I've known DiNozzo twice as long as you have."

"Of course," Ziva said. There was a lull in the conversation, then she said, "I had better make travel arrangements . . ."

"Right," Gibbs said. He paused, then said, "Good luck, Ziva. With everything."

With that, he ended the phone call and Ziva hung up on her end, as well. She looked down at the phone in her hand, then turned to look at McGee. She didn't need to say anything for him to wrap his arms around her, bundling her in the warm safety of his embrace.

"You can do this, Ziva," he said, feeling her heart beat against his chest. "_We _can do this. Everything is going to be just fine. You just wait and see."

Ziva rested her head on his chest, sighing. If only McGee saying the words was all it took. She knew it would be trying and there would be days she'd want to give up on it all, but if there was anything she had learned at NCIS, it was patience. Good thing, too, because she would be needing a lot of it in the near future.

A sudden scratching sounded then, causing Ziva to jump and then let out a sigh of relief upon realizing what it was. "Jethro," she breathed. "I guess I forgot about him being here."

McGee smiled. "Yeah, despite his size, he's a surprisingly quiet dog."

"That's because he's a military dog, McGee," Ziva muttered, looking towards the doorway at where the German Shepherd was standing, yawning before panting happily at them.

Ziva looked back to McGee, who was still watching the dog. Finally, he turned back to her, saying, "I'll have to find a kennel for him before we go, unless . . ." He trailed off, causing Ziva to give him a look.

"We cannot bring him to Israel with us," she said, her eyes wide.

McGee smiled. "I wasn't about to suggest _that_, silly, I just figured, well," he shrugged, "Abby does love him a lot . . ."

Ziva frowned. "I thought her landlord did not allow dogs . . ."

McGee shook his head. "No, I meant that I would give her a key and she could come over here to take care of him, feed and walk him and stuff."

Ziva gave a small nod. "Oh," she said softly. She knew it was irrational to be jealous of Abby having a key to her apartment, and she wouldn't have thought twice about it had it been anyone else, but she knew they'd had a previous fling and that McGee had still held a bit of a torch for her for awhile afterwards.

McGee's smile fell as he noticed Ziva's silence. He studied her expression and realized what must be wrong. "Hey," he said, touching her arm and causing her to look up at him, "I'm not going to be here. I'll be with you. And that's the way I want things to be. You have no reason to be jealous of Abby."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I am _not _jealous of Abby."

McGee gave her a look. "I may not be as skilled in interrogation techniques as you, but I know how to read body language, Ziva. And your body language is telling me you're not comfortable with the idea of Abby having a key to my apartment."

She glared at him for a moment, then her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay, so I am slightly unnerved by the idea. But can you really blame me?" She gave him a look of desperation. "You and Abby are so alike, have so many things in common . . ."

"Which makes for a great friendship, Ziva," McGee interrupted her, smiling. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Look, I'm glad you care about me enough to worry about losing me, but it's not necessary. Yes, I care about Abby, but it's a strictly platonic love. We're simply not looking for the same things in a relationship, and besides," he turned bashful, looking down briefly before returning his gaze to her eyes, "I've found someone else I'd rather be with."

Ziva attempted to hide her pleasure, but it was harder than she imagined. She suddenly found herself feeling very lucky, and her expression sobered as she reached for McGee's hands and brought them down to waist level, holding them tightly. "I often wonder how it is that I ended up where I am now, with the kind of people who care about me so much. I feel very lucky to have you, Tim, to have all of you."

McGee squeezed her hands in return, saying, "_We're_ the lucky ones, Ziva. I'm just glad I get a chance to share something with you."

Ziva slipped her hands from his, and slid her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "You are not the only one happy about that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"So, what do we do until our flight leaves?" Ziva asked, sitting on the edge of McGee's bed and staring at the floor.

"Well, I do still have to get a hold of Abby," McGee said from his spot at the dresser, where he was inspecting and folding clothes for the trip. "Man, is she going to be surprised."

Ziva lifted her head at that comment. "Why do you say that?" she asked, her tone of voice defensive.

McGee put the undershirt he was holding into his suitcase and looked over at her. "I didn't mean to suggest . . ." He sighed, walking over to where she sat and sitting beside her. "Sorry. That didn't come out right."

Ziva shrugged, staring at the wall. "No, it was not what you said." She paused, then reconsidered her words. "Okay, it is what you said. But I was overreacting. I suppose I am feeling a bit . . . on edge lately, yes?" She looked to him for confirmation of the saying and he nodded. She mimicked the nod, looking at the wall again as she continued speaking. "Abby is very possessive." She shifted her gaze to her hands, having said enough.

McGee rolled his eyes. "Abby loves you, Ziva. Just like . . ." He suddenly stopped, realizing what he had almost said, and shook his head. "There's nothing to worry about. I'll make sure she doesn't say anything. She should know that I don't belong to her. She made it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested in me as anything more than a friend, so she shouldn't expect that I won't move on with my life and date other people." He looked over at Ziva and found her giving him a look of surprise. He sighed. "Sorry. I just . . . get angry sometimes when I think about it."

"No, you have every right to be," Ziva murmured. "I know that feeling all too well." McGee gave her a questioning look and she shrugged. "It is not exactly the same, but Tony . . ."

"Ahh," McGee said. "Well, they're both just going to have to get used to the idea that we want to be together."

Ziva met his eyes again. "I just worry that Tony will never truly accept it. You saw how angry he was when he left here."

McGee nodded. "Oh, yeah. He was not happy." He frowned in contemplation. "You don't really think he would _never _forgive us, do you?"

Ziva shrugged, facing the wall and putting on an air of ambivalence. "I do not know. I am not Tony. Perhaps this is not a good idea." She looked down at her hands, still speaking without emotion. "Perhaps we should not be together and I should not bring Sari and Micah back to the United States."

McGee gave her a horrified look. "You don't really believe that, do you? Because I . . ."

"No, I do _not _believe that, McGee," Ziva spat, turning abruptly to face him. "I _want _to be with you and I _want _to bring Sari and Micah back with me, to give them the sort of life they deserve, with someone who loves them as if they were her own children!" She paused, but McGee remained quiet, both because he knew she probably wasn't finished and because he was afraid of what she might do to him if he interrupted her.

"Tony!" she suddenly exploded, and McGee flinched. "He is so incredibly selfish, did you know that?" McGee started nodding, but she ignored him, quickly standing and beginning to pace. "Of course you did. You work with him, too. I just cannot believe he . . ." She threw up her hands in exasperation, unsure of what else to do. She suddenly stopped pacing and faced McGee, pointing a finger at him. He recoiled slightly at the action. She dropped her finger and sighed.

McGee held out his arms and she walked to him, allowing him to put his arms around her. He looked up at her, softly saying, "We'll figure things out, okay?" She nodded and he rubbed her back. "Okay, now come on." He patted his lap and she collapsed onto it, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. He smiled and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the number on speed dial for Abby.

"You have Abby on speed dial?" Ziva asked, a note of discouragement again seeping into her voice. McGee gave her a look and she said, "I know. Sorry."

"Good, because . . . Oh, hi, Abby," McGee said as Abby answered on the other end.

"Hey, Timmy, what's up?" Abby's cheerful voice greeted him.

"Uh, I was wondering if you might be able to come check on Jethro for," he looked to Ziva for a timeframe and she shrugged, "awhile."

"Sure!" Abby said. "You know I love Jethro. What's going on? You going out of town or something?"

McGee sent another glance at Ziva. "Uh, yeah. Something like that. Look, why don't you come over now and I can give you a key and we can explain things better?"

" 'We', huh?" Abby asked, instantly picking up on McGee's slip. "Something I should know about, Timmy?"

McGee rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for this right now, even if Abby was being jovial about it at the moment. "Just come over, Abby. It's important."

"Okay, Tim," Abby said quietly, responding to the sudden seriousness of his words.

"Thanks, Abby," McGee said quietly, then hung up. He looked at Ziva. "Now I know why you're so nervous."

Ziva scoffed lightly. "I am not nervous." McGee gave her a look and she cracked her neck. "Perhaps a bit anxious."

McGee let out a puff of laughter. "Yeah, me too. But, you know Abby. She might freak out at first, but then she'll hug us both so hard we can't breathe." He smiled and Ziva let out a small laugh. "Don't worry."

"I won't," Ziva said softly, letting her fingers linger over McGee's. "We have much more important things to worry about."

They sat in silence like that for a few more minutes, until an insistent knocking sounded at the door, followed by a muffled cry of, "McGee, open up! Are you okay?" And then more knocking.

McGee looked at Ziva, who gave him a small smile. "Looks like this is it." She took the hint and slid off his lap, then grasped his outstretched hand, bringing him to his feet, then following him as he walked out to let Abby in.

As McGee opened the door, Abby flung herself at him, nearly knocking him over in her concern. "Oh, thank God you're alright, Timmy! I got super worried when you got all serious on the phone." She pulled back, looking him over with wide eyes. "You _are_ okay, aren't you? And who else is here? You said 'we' on the phone." She began chewing her lip in nervousness.

McGee didn't reply, just stepped aside, revealing Ziva, who gave Abby a tight-lipped smile.

Abby's eyes widened further and her smile fell as she said, "Ziva?" She switched her gaze back and forth from McGee to Ziva, looking like she might start crying at any moment. "What's wrong? Why are you here? Is it Tony? No, please don't tell me . . ." She paused, a tiny whimper coming from her trembling lips. "Gibbs? No. No. Not Gibbs . . ."

"Calm down, Abby," Ziva said softly, becoming the voice of reason. "This has nothing to do with Tony or Gibbs."

Abby visibly relaxed, but then tensed again. "Are _you _okay, Ziva? Because . . ." She trailed off, speechless. Things had to be bad if Abby couldn't think of something to say.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Ziva answered quietly. She held up a hand to still Abby's whimpers and finished. "Um, it is a long story."

Abby gave her a sympathetic look. "What's _wrong_, Ziva?" she asked, coming at Ziva and gently embracing her.

Ziva closed her eyes against the lab tech's soft murmurs of concern, trying not to listen. It was one thing to cry in front of McGee - _Tim_ - but Abby?

"It is none of your concern, Abby," Ziva said. "I am not hurt." _Physically, anyway,_ she added in her head.

Abby pulled away, her eyes still fully of worry, and said, "But someone close to you was, right?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes," she said, doing her best to keep the emotion from her voice. "My step-brother."

"Oh, Ziva," Abby breathed, wrapping her arms around her again, then pulling back. "I didn't even know you had a step-brother." She gave her a curious, but still sad, look.

"I did not tell anyone," Ziva said, avoiding Abby's eyes to look at the floor instead. "But . . . I needed to now."

Abby let out a gasp. "He died, didn't he? Oh, Ziva, that is so awful . . ."

Ziva continued nodding, ignoring Abby's words to finish her story. "And he left his two children as orphans . . ."

"Oh, my God, Ziva . . ."

"And so we are going to Israel for the funeral and I am going to attempt to gain custody of the children."

Abby was silent then, shocked into speechlessness again, and looked past them, searching for Jethro, when she saw Ziva's suitcase. She furrowed her brow as she remembered. "You just got back from Israel." Ziva nodded. Abby frowned in contemplation. "And you came here instead of going home?"

McGee let out a sigh. "Abby, it's not important. Leave it alone."

"No, no," Ziva said, turning to McGee and laying a hand on his arm, an action that did not go unnoticed by Abby, who was attempting not to look jealous, but wasn't succeeding. McGee gave Ziva a sympathetic, yet pleading, look. She gave him a wan smile in return. "She deserves to know."

Abby's expression turned to wide-eyed curiosity. "What? What do I deserve to know?" Ziva opened her mouth to respond, but Abby let out a gasp, realizing what was going on. "You mean . . . you two . . ." She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. "How long were you planning on keeping this from me?"

McGee stepped in. "This _just _happened, Abby. We weren't keeping anything from you. I promise."

She stopped glaring, but kept her hands on her hips. "You seem awfully defensive, McGee."

"I have reason to be, Abby," he responded. "Look at the way you reacted when you thought we were keeping it from you. We're not." He looked at Ziva, then back to Abby. "We want everyone to be okay with this, because . . ." He paused, clearing his throat to work up the nerve to finish. "Because we're going to be together whether people like it or not."

Ziva nodded slightly to herself in approval, as Abby dropped her hands from her hips, her eyes big. She looked as though she felt about 10 inches tall, and McGee let out a sigh. "This is about Ziva," he said quietly. "I'm just trying to support her." He looked over at Ziva then, looking into her eyes as he continued speaking. "I care about her a lot."

Abby watched the exchange with realization dawning on her. They really did care about each other. Well, she had known that already, but she hadn't realized how deep it was.

They were in love with each other.

She had no right to be angry with them - she'd had her chance with Tim and it hadn't lasted. And it was clear that whatever this was between Tim and Ziva, it was the real thing. Ziva needed someone there for her with all she'd have to go through, what with her step-brother dying and taking in his children, and McGee was just the guy for the job.

Abby smiled at the duo, clearing her throat so they turned their attention back to her. She held her hands out in apology. "Sorry for snapping like that. I didn't know what to expect." Her smile grew. "But now I can see, and I'm happy for you. Both of you."

McGee grinned. "Thanks, Abby. You really have no idea how much that means to hear."

Abby returned the grin. "Oh, I think I can imagine. And you know what else I can imagine?" She leaned in, as if telling them a secret. "Tony's reaction."

McGee's smile fell and Ziva replaced the wall of stone around her features. Abby noticed and grew worried. "What? What is it?"

"Tony knows," Ziva said coldly. "He was less that welcoming of the idea."

Abby frowned, then came at both of them with her arms open, gathering them both in an awkward hug. She pulled away after a moment and said, "Don't you worry about Tony. I'll deal with him." McGee shared a dubious look with Ziva, then turned back to Abby, who was now holding out her hand. "Key, please."

"Oh, uh, right," McGee said, rushing to his writing desk and grabbing the spare key sitting there. He walked back to the girls and deposited the key in Abby's hand, unable to keep the look of relief off his face. "Thanks again for doing this, Abby."

"No problem, guys," she responded. "Come back safely and let me know when you do get back so I can come spoil the kids." She sent a wink to them and Ziva held up a hand, not wanting her to get her hopes up.

"Abby, I appreciate your enthusiasm," she started, a bittersweet smile on her face, "but we do not even know what will happen yet."

"Trust me, Ziva," Abby said. "I know you and I know you won't leave those kids if it doesn't feel right." She gave her a wide smile. "You _are _on Gibbs' team, after all."

She turned for the door then, calling over her shoulder, "I'll see the four of you when you get back."

As soon as the door closed behind Abby, McGee turned to Ziva. "She's right, you know."

Ziva rolled her eyes, walking away. "She cannot possibly know what's going to happen in Israel . . ."

He walked up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and turning her to face him. She looked up at him, surprised by the show of possessiveness. "No, but she saw what's happening between us and she knows . . ."

Ziva found herself entranced with McGee's soft lips moving and she mumbled, "There's no going back now," before his lips captured hers and they completely forgot about everything, just for that moment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"_Now boarding: Flight 246 to Tel Aviv, Israel."_

McGee tapped Ziva on the shoulder. "That's us," he said. She nodded absently, ignoring him. He let out a sigh and tried again. "Ziva."

She looked up at him this time. "Yes?"

He pointed at the gate they needed to be. "We're loading."

"Oh!" she said, standing and grabbing her carry-on. "I am sorry. I was thinking about something else." She let out a breath. "Shall we?"

"Yeah," McGee said, now a bit distracted himself. He frowned. "You okay, Ziva?"

She sighed. "I am fine, Tim," she said, walking towards the gate. "There is simply a lot to think about, that is all."

McGee nodded slightly. He believed her, of course, but still felt like she was holding back. "Well, I just want you to know . . ."

She turned, placing a hand on his chest. "I'll come to you if I need to. Don't worry." She smiled at him, dropping her hand, only to place it in his. He smiled back at her and they continued the walk to the boarding area hand in hand, their only concerns now making it to Israel safely and making sure Micah and Sari were being treated well.

As McGee and Ziva were boarding the plane to Israel, life as normal was continuing at NCIS. Well, as close to normal as it could get without McGee and Ziva, anyway.

Gibbs was up in Vance's office, probably having the argument of a lifetime with the Director, while Tony sat at his desk, shooting glares at his teammates' desks. They were currently unoccupied and waiting for the agents Gibbs had requisitioned to fill them. He was just about to throw another wad of paper at McGee's empty desk chair when a voice made him look up.

"Hey, Tony."

He let out a sigh as Abby approached him, looking slightly timid. "Hey, Abbs," he said, his voice dull. "I take it you heard the news?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, holding up McGee's extra key. "I'm watching Jethro for McGee while he's gone . . ."

Her words faded into nothingness as Tony suddenly slammed his fist down, then looked up at Abby, a deceiving look of calm on his face. "Did you know about this?" he asked, his voice relaying the same deceptive level of calm.

Abby shook her head slowly. "No, Tony. It just happened . . ."

"You think that's supposed to make me feel better, Abby?" he interrupted, glaring at her.

Abby set her mouth in a line. "This isn't about you, Tony. Ziva lost her brother."

"Step-brother," Tony corrected, still glaring.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Fine. Step-brother. The point is, someone _died_ and all you can do is sit here and be angry because Ziva didn't come to you." Abby's eyes were boring holes into Tony's head, and he looked away from her, his jaw set. Abby's expression softened slightly. "You know I'm right, don't you?"

"What I know, _Abby_," Tony hissed, looking back to her, "is that my team is keeping secrets from me." He continued to stare at her, his ears practically emitting steam.

"You're one to talk about keeping secrets, DiNozzo," a new voice broke into the conversation.

Tony stood then, straightening his sport coat. "What's the verdict, Boss?"

Gibbs gave him a look. "The 'verdict,' DiNozzo? Ziva's gone for a funeral. End of story." He walked to his desk, Tony gawking at his back. He took a gulp of coffee and turned around, giving Tony a challenging look. "What? You want me to punish her for picking McGee over you?"

Tony gave a bitter laugh. "Why does everyone assume that's the reason I'm upset? I simply don't like being kept out of the loop, that's all."

Abby continued to cower in the background, her arms wrapped around her middle. "We're not blind, Tony. Or stupid," she said quietly.

He whipped his head around to look at her. "I never insinuated you were, Abby," he said stiffly, causing Gibbs to take a step forward.

"This isn't Abby's fault, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, his tone threatening. He turned his attention to Abby. "Go to your lab," he said softly. She hesitated and he sighed. "You heard me. I'll be there in a minute." This time, Abby did skitter away, as Gibbs turned back to Tony.

"Didn't want to hit me in front of a woman?" Tony asked, glaring.

"Never stopped me before," Gibbs said. They had a staring match for a moment before Gibbs asked, "What the hell is your problem, DiNozzo? Ziva is not a piece of property . . ."

"I know that, Boss," Tony said, his voice softer than it had been.

"So stop acting like she belongs to you," Gibbs finished sternly, then turned and walked to the elevator, punching the button forcefully and leaving Tony standing with a grim look on his face.

As he reached Abby's lab, Gibbs did his best to replace the menacing look on his face with something softer. He walked in and found her sitting in front of a computer, chin resting on her palms, just sitting and staring ahead.

"Hey," he said, but she didn't make any move to acknowledge his presence. He let out a breath and walked up behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't like when Tony's like this," Abby started, not moving her head from her hands. "It's like he's not . . . Tony. And I know he cares, or else he wouldn't get so upset in the first place, but this isn't about him!" She turned then, looking at Gibbs. "Ziva and Tim . . . Gibbs, they really care about each other. I can tell. I just wish Tony could see that, too."

Gibbs sighed and ran a hand over her hair, then rested it on her shoulder as she leaned her head against his side. "He'll come around, Abbs."

"He better," she mumbled. "'Cause that's what I told Timmy and Ziva and I'd hate to have them be mad at me."

Gibbs smiled, but it was laced with a tinge of sadness. "I'll take care of it, Abbs."

Abby jumped to her feet then, throwing her arms around Gibbs and giving him a tight hug. "I know you will, Gibbs." She pulled away and looked him in the face. "Just don't go too hard on him, okay? Because he really does care, you know. He just doesn't know how to show it." She resumed the hug. "You're the best, Gibbs."

He patted her absently on the back, his mind not on her or the two agents he had half a world away, but the one he'd left upstairs with a look of steel in his eyes. It was essentially up to Tony to change his attitude, but he was the only one Tony would listen to in order to get there. It would be a long and most likely agonizing journey, but it was one he needed to take, in order for all of them to make it through this unscathed.

Breaking out of Abby's grasp, Gibbs exited the lab and headed for the elevator, knowing his best plan of action for the time being was to return to the squad room, sit down at his desk, and get on with the day.

Tony couldn't stay angry forever. He simply didn't have it in him. He would eventually come to terms with what had happened, and feel like an ass for treating Ziva the way he had.

The only thing left to wonder was how long that would take, and if it would happen before Ziva and McGee returned from Israel.

For everyone's sakes, Gibbs hoped it would.

. . .

"Zivaleh," Eli David greeted his daughter. He patted a fingertip to his cheek. Ziva raised up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then pulled back. He gave her a sad smile. "I am very glad to see you could . . ." His voice slowed as McGee entered the room, rolling a large suitcase behind him. He looked back to Ziva, finishing. "Make it." He gave her a forced smile. "You brought a friend?"

Ziva let out a sigh. She was prepared for this, and had warned McGee about it, as well. Her father had ideas about what was best for her, and American men, particularly non-Jewish ones, were not it. "Yes, Papa," she finally said. "This is one of my partners at NCIS . . ."

"Timothy McGee," Eli finished, a smug look on his face. He clasped his hands together in front of him, not making any attempt at welcoming the wide-eyed young man. "I'm very familiar with your co-workers, Zivaleh."

McGee frowned slightly at that information, but attempted to remain polite and respectful as always. "It is nice to meet you, Deputy Director David. Uh, I wish, um, that it were under other circumstances, though. I'm sorry about your stepson."

Eli pursed his lips and nodded. "Thank you for the condolences, Agent McGee. And thank you for accompanying my daughter to Israel. I presume you came because she trusts you?" McGee opened his mouth to respond, but Eli continued, cutting off any words he may have said. "I must say, I am a bit surprised to see you here, Agent McGee. I expected Ziva to bring someone, but I expected your other partner, Agent DiNozzo, is it?"

McGee paled as Ziva hissed under her breath at her father. "Papa, please!"

McGee put a hand on her arm and she turned to look at him, her eyes wild with apology. "No, it's okay, Ziva. I understand." He looked up, at her father again. "You asked me to come with you, not Tony. So I'm here."

Eli raised an eyebrow, not having expected that reaction from someone of McGee's nature. "Touché, Agent McGee. Clearly she must care for you a great deal."

Ziva rolled her eyes at the conversation. This was turning into a battle of who was best for her, who cared for her more, when it should not be about her at all, but rather Michael, and Micah and Sari. She cleared her throat and spoke. "How are the children holding up?"

Eli turned his gaze from McGee to Ziva, his expression softening a tiny bit. "Carmela is looking after them."

"That is not what I asked, Papa," Ziva said softly, though her words were still forceful.

Eli chuckled. "Still as feisty as ever, I see. Some things never change."

"I just left here," Ziva said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you expect me to be that different?"

Eli simply raised his eyebrows at her, then reached inside his sport coat and withdrew a key, holding it out for her to take. "I am sure Carmela can fill you in." Ziva reached out for the proffered key, but Eli held it out of her grasp, his eyes narrowed in thought. "You seem awfully interested in the children's welfare."

McGee narrowed his own eyes as Ziva avoided her father's gaze, choosing to look at the floor instead. "Of course," she said. "They are my niece and nephew."

Eli took a step toward her. "There is more to it than that, Zivaleh."

"Give me the key, Papa," Ziva said, holding out her hand. She raised her eyes to her father's face then, and a brief flicker of emotion passed over his face as he placed the key in her palm, but he didn't say anything. Ziva turned and faced McGee. "Come on, Tim. I want to go see my family."

She walked past him, her hand brushing his, and his eyes widened slightly as he looked from her to her father, giving Eli a small nod before turning to follow Ziva out of the house.

He jogged to catch up to her, muttering, "Wow. I can see why you wanted to get back to the U.S."

Ziva stopped in front of their rental car, placing a hand on the hood, then speaking. "I am sorry about my father. I . . . He does not know about Michael's request."

"I kinda figured that out, Ziva," McGee said, coming up behind her and gently touching her back.

But instead of relaxing into his touch or turning to face him, as he expected her to do, Ziva jerked at his touch and walked away, opening the driver's side door of the rented Mini and climbing inside, avoiding McGee's eyes once she was inside.

McGee frowned and looked over his shoulder back at the house, his frown deepening as he watched the den curtains flutter back into place. He wasn't about to stand by and watch as this chance was taken away from Ziva . . . from _them. _Her father was nothing to him, not when it came to Ziva and what she wanted and needed.

Nothing was going to stop him from making sure Ziva was the happiest she could be.

He shook his head at the house and walked around to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and joining Ziva inside. He looked at her and reached over, taking her hand. She looked momentarily surprised, but then relaxed and smiled, squeezing his hand back before turning her attention to starting the car.

McGee looked out the windshield and nodded at her father's house. They were going to see Ziva's family. Her _real _family.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Sorry about the insanely long wait between chapters. Gah. I was on a roll when I started posting this here and that's WHY I had started posting, otherwise I had stopped posting WIPs here until I finished them. Again, sorry. Hopefully it won't take so long so update again._

**Chapter Twelve**

McGee found himself taking in the striking gold and tan of Tel Aviv as Ziva sped through the streets of the city with ease. It was obvious she was very familiar with the city, and also obvious that she was in a desperate hurry to reach Michael's residence and check on the children. He reached a tentative hand over to rest on her thigh, and that seemed to relax her and she eased up on the gas pedal.

"So," McGee started, attempting to make some kind of conversation to pass the time, "what did your father mean by expecting to see Tony?"

Ziva stiffened and pressed down on the gas pedal again, flattening McGee against his seat as the Mini lurched into motion. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

McGee frowned. "Sure. I was just trying to make conversation . . ." He looked over at her, studying how her hands were clenched around the steering wheel as if it were the neck of one of her targets and she'd been ordered to kill via choking. There was definitely something she wasn't telling him. He didn't want to push the issue, but he felt he had a right to know. He didn't want her to keep secrets from him, and he was going to ask her again. When they got to the hotel. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Ziva off while she was driving.

Ziva noticed McGee's silence and gave him a glance. She needed to tell him. He had a right to know. It made her feel absolutely awful to see him pouting because of something she had done, and while she was sure he wouldn't like what she had to tell, she could hope that he could at least forgive her and they could move on. Because if there was one thing she _was _sure of, it was that she wanted to move on -- with McGee.

She reached over and placed a hand on his knee, causing his head to pop up in surprise. She gave the most genuine smile she could muster and said, "We can talk tonight, when we're alone."

He nodded and looked out the window, noticing they had stopped in front of an apartment building. He returned his gaze to Ziva. "Is this it?"

Ziva nodded and turned off the ignition. "It is." She faced forward again, her hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly. "And it is time to say goodbye to Michael."

McGee sensed her emotions about to overwhelm her and reached over to take her hand. She turned her gaze to him and found his eyes shining as he spoke to her.

"And hello to our future."

…

Gibbs and Tony sat in silence in the team's Charger, their eyes trained on a house across the street from where they were parked. Ever since Tony's blow-up at Abby -- if that was even what it was; Tony made it a habit to simply be bitter and raise his voice a little, something he'd picked up from Gibbs -- the senior agent had said only the bare minimum to anyone. Gibbs had a feeling he knew he was in trouble and that's why he wasn't talking. And while he generally wasn't big on talking himself, he had to soothe things at least a little bit before McGee and Ziva returned, otherwise the resulting fallout would be twice as bad.

"We gonna talk about this or are you gonna sulk for a month?" Gibbs asked, his voice low and as deadpan as always.

"Thought you didn't like talking," Tony responded, his tone as icy as earlier.

Gibbs shrugged a shoulder, taking a sip of coffee before saying, "No, not usually. But this whole Ziva thing is bothering you and I don't want it affecting how you work." _Not to mention she doesn't deserve it_, he added in his head.

"I'll get the job done," Tony said, still staring at the house they were staking out.

"DiNozzo, as much as I like the silence, I kinda like the idea of my team being able to work together."

Tony rolled his eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was filled with as much sadness as it was sarcasm. "Then maybe you should have stopped me from loving her."

Gibbs let out a heavy sigh. "Aw, geez, DiNozzo . . ."

"I know," Tony said. "I deserve a whole body slap for that."

Gibbs shook his head, his eyes closed in disbelief. After a moment of silence, he said, "You never could keep out of trouble, could you, Tony?"

Tony sighed, staring down at his hands. "Not when it really mattered, no." He looked up at Gibbs. "What are the odds she's in it for a Porsche?"

Gibbs remained staring out the windshield. "Not very good, DiNozzo."

Tony let out another sigh. "That's what I was afraid of."

Gibbs didn't say anything in response, just continued to watch the house, and the car was bathed in a tense, thoughtful silence once again.

As Tony and Gibbs remained sitting in their car, McGee and Ziva exited theirs, ready to see Sari and Micah.

The elevator ride to the apartment was silent and seemed to take ages, but they finally arrived on the correct floor, five floors up. Ziva held her head high and walked from the elevator, heading right for Michael's apartment. As she reached it and raised her hand to knock, McGee noticed she was shaking. Not much, just a tiny tremble, but the meaning was the same. He laid a hand on her back and she tensed, then relaxed, reaching a hand behind her to grasp his other hand. She knocked on the door.

After a few minutes, they heard the scrabble of someone unlocking locks and the deadbolt. The door opened to reveal a tired-looking Israeli woman, who smiled at seeing Ziva. "Ziva," she breathed. "I am glad you are here." She looked past Ziva then, having noticed she wasn't alone. "You brought a friend?"

Ziva gave her a small smile. "Yes, Carmela. This is Tim McGee. He is . . . my partner."

McGee waved. "Nice to meet you," he said genially.

"How are the children?" Ziva asked into the somewhat awkward silence.

Carmela looked at Ziva with somewhat sad eyes. "I do not think either of them realize what has happened quite yet."

Ziva nodded. She had expected that to be the case. "I assume you are aware of Michael's wishes."

Carmela gave her a bittersweet smile. "It will be . . . not easy to see the children leave, but Michael knew what would be the best for them." She gave Ziva a concerned look. "Are you ready for this?"

Ziva smiled at her. "I am a trained assassin, Carmela," she said lightly. "Surely parenting cannot be much more difficult."

The bittersweet look remained on Carmela's face and a few tears escaped and flowed down her cheeks. "Michael was a good man. This should not have happened."

"I know, Carmela," Ziva said softly, and McGee must have been able to hear the tears in her own voice, because he placed a comforting hand on her back. She shot him a grateful smile, then turned back to Carmela. "May I see them?"

Carmela nodded, wiping away her tears. "Of course," she said, and turned to lead Ziva to their bedroom.

Ziva started following Carmela, and McGee held back, but then Ziva turned to him, extending a hand in invitation to join them. He gave her a soft smile and took it, following the two women through the apartment to a small bedroom in the back, where the sounds of the children playing could be heard.

Carmela knocked softly and then poked her head inside the room, speaking in Hebrew. "Shalom, babies. Look who is here."

The children looked up, their faces brightening when they saw Ziva, who gave them a look of mock surprise, her mouth wide and a smile in her eyes. She dipped down to their level, holding her arms open, and McGee couldn't keep the grin off his face as Sari and Micah rushed to her, babbling excitedly in their native tongue as Ziva gave them both a protective squeeze.

The whole scene was just so unlike Ziva, but at the same time, it seemed perfectly natural for her, and McGee felt a small twinge of something (love? sadness?) upon seeing the scene. These children were about to become a part of his life, a really big part, and they had no idea.

As Ziva continued to speak with the children, McGee swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew he cared about Ziva and wanted to be with her, but he hadn't really realized the depth of his feelings. He _really _cared about her. He might even say . . .

At that moment, Ziva looked up and turned to ask McGee a question, but stopped short at seeing the expression on his face. A different question came to mind. "Tim? Are you okay?

McGee snapped out of his thoughts on hearing Ziva's voice. He looked down at her, the feelings coming to the surface again as he met her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I just got distracted."

She stood up then, slowly, keeping her gaze on him. "Tim," she said softly.

He shook his head. "We can talk later. You need to be here for your family now."

Ziva looked down for a moment, then placed a hand in one of McGee's and looked up at him. "_You _are my family, as well. Do not forget that." Her fingers tightened briefly around his.

He smiled at her. "Never, Ziva." They continued to gaze at each other for a few more moments until Carmela's voice reminded them of where they were.

"Ziva?" Carmela asked softly, and Ziva and McGee broke their gaze, looking to the nanny. "I am sorry to interrupt. I have this for you." She presented an envelope to Ziva. "It is a letter from Michael. I found it in his study, in the safe." She bowed her head. "I was told, if anything happened to him . . ."

Ziva reached a hand out to Carmela's shoulder. "Thank you, Carmela. She took the letter from the nanny and looked up at McGee. He nodded in understanding.

"I know," he said. "I'll stay here."

She smiled at him and reached up on tiptoes to give him a small kiss on the cheek, then stepped back, her hands on his face. "Thank you," she said almost inaudibly, then stepped away and out of the room, leaving McGee alone with Carmela and the children, who weren't paying attention to the adults.

McGee watched the children playing, a soft smile on his face that was as much for the innocence of the situation as it was thinking about Ziva. Carmela seemed to be able to read that, because her voice soon broke into his thoughts.

"She cares for the children a great deal, Mister McGee," she said. McGee looked up and met her gaze. She smiled at him and continued. "You are more than her partner, yes?"

McGee returned the smile. "She's incredibly important to me," he confirmed.

Carmela nodded, satisfied with the response. "You will take good care of her?"

"Only the best," he said, and that was no exaggeration -- his feelings for Ziva . . . they ran so much deeper than anyone could have imagined. He looked Carmela in the eye and admitted to her what he had only just realized himself. "She's everything to me."

Carmela's smile widened. Finally, it looked like Ziva would be happy. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Ziva appeared in the doorway then, looking distraught.

McGee immediately grew worried. "Ziva? Are you okay?

Ziva found she couldn't say anything, and she simply held the letter out with a shaking hand . . .

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The elevator opened at NCIS and Gibbs stepped out, sipping a cup of coffee. He walked straight to Tony's desk, setting an extra cup of coffee next to the agent, along with a plastic cup of Caf-Pow! Tony looked up in surprise.

"Boss?" he asked. It wasn't like Gibbs to bring him coffee.

"That," he pointed to the Caf-Pow!, "is for Abby."

"Well, I kinda figured that, Boss," Tony said. "I'm not much of a soft drink person . . ." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Seriously, Boss."

Gibbs simply walked to his desk, resisting the urge to head slap Tony. "I think you owe someone an apology," he said as he sat down at his desk.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I thought apologizing was a sign of weakness."

Gibbs raised his eyes and looked at Tony over the top of his computer monitor. "Not to Abby."

Tony's shoulders drooped. He knew Gibbs was right. This wasn't Abby's doing. He shouldn't have snapped at her earlier and he did owe her an apology. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders, grabbed both the coffee and Caf-Pow! from his desk, and stood to head to the elevator and Abby's lab.

…

Meanwhile, in Israel, McGee had just taken the letter from Ziva and was scanning it, his eyes bugging out at the contents. "Holy . . ." he said, looking up again and meeting Ziva's own shocked gaze. "Did you know about this?" He cursed to himself after asking the question. "No. Of course you didn't. Stupid question." He paused and simply looked at the children, who were again blissfully unaware of what was going on. When he looked back at Ziva, she was staring blankly ahead.

"I should have seen it coming," she said. "My father manages to force his will onto all his children, even when they aren't genetically his."

McGee didn't even bother to dispute that, or assure her that things weren't that bad. He had read Michael's confession in the letter -- he had been working for Ziva's father for years now, and while he wasn't technically a member of Mossad, he knew enough to be considered a threat.

McGee looked up from the letter, which he had read again, to Ziva. "Do you think . . ."

She didn't even wait for him to finish, shaking her head. "No. I am sure his death truly was accidental, but . . ." She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. "I wonder how many other secrets my father has kept from me."

McGee reached a hand out to her. "Come on, Ziva. Surely he isn't that bad . . ."

Her eyes flicked open and he slowly withdrew his hand on seeing the anger reflected, even though he knew she wasn't angry with him. "This is not the first time he had lied to me, McGee. Surely you remember Ari?"

For a brief moment, McGee saw a whisper of another emotion on Ziva's face -- guilt, or sadness, something regretful -- but it lasted only for the moment, then her eyes were ablaze again. "It is all business with him, McGee," she said, her voice a harsh whisper, to keep from upsetting Carmela and the children, who were all preoccupied on the other side of the room. "He does not care who gets hurt, as long as he gets what he wants." She let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

McGee frowned. He didn't know what to say. From the brief meeting with Ziva's father, he could understand her anger. But at the same time, he didn't want to see her angry. "Hey," he said, reaching out and brushing his fingers across her shoulder. She looked up at him and most of her anger seemed to dissipate, though he could still see it simmering behind her eyes. "Let's not worry about your father. We're here to pay our respects to your brother." He looked over to the children playing quietly in the corner, then met Ziva's eyes again. "And to help them through this, as well."

Ziva nodded, looking down at her feet. "You're right. I . . . am sorry. I got angry."

"And you have every right to be," McGee added, knowing that while anger was hardly the appropriate emotion right now, it was certainly justified. "But we're not here for your father."

Ziva nodded again, and let out a sigh. McGee held his arms out and she walked into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around him and allowing him to hold her tight. This was far from over and they both knew Ziva's feelings of resentment wouldn't just go away, but the least they could do was keep it hidden until Michael was put to rest.

McGee lifted his eyes and found Carmela watching them, a bittersweet smile on her face. He smiled back at her. Yes, this was definitely going to be a long journey, but he knew they would make it just fine.

…

The elevator doors opened and Tony remained leaning against the back wall of the elevator for a moment before pushing himself off and exiting the box. He could already hear (and feel) the music coming from Abby's lab, so he figured she must be feeling better. _Probably not for long, though_, he thought.

He entered the lab, the opening of the doors covered up by the pounding bass of the music, and walked up behind Abby, setting the Caf-Pow! next to her. She saw it and gasped in excitement, grabbing it and saying, "Gibbs!" before she turned, looking surprised. "Oh, Tony." She turned back to her computer and turned her music down considerably, then faced him again. "What can I do for you?"

Tony shuffled his feet a bit. For some reason, Abby made him more nervous than Gibbs did. At least, in this situation she did. "You can accept my apology."

"Oh," she said, and turned back to her computer, intending on tuning him out.

He blew out a breath. "Okay. I suppose I deserve that. But, um . . ." He scratched behind his ear, not really wanting to explain everything to her, but knowing he would have to tell her at least some of it. "I was angry at McGee and Ziva and took it out on you, and you didn't deserve that. _Don't _deserve that."

She slowly turned to him. "Tim and Ziva don't, either," she said softly. "Tony, I know it's not easy for you to see, but they genuinely care about each other." She paused. "They love each other, Tony. You can't fault them for wanting to be together."

"Yeah, well . . ." Tony didn't look at Abby as he spoke, choosing instead to focus on her hands, one still resting on her keyboard and the other dangling loosely at her side, "it doesn't make it hurt any less." He looked up then and saw the look of realization on Abby's face, but continued speaking to prevent her from saying anything. "I'm sorry, Abby," he said, then walked out of the lab, leaving her calling out after him.

"Tony! Tony, wait!" Abby watched as the doors shushed shut behind him and slumped her shoulders in defeat. It was going to take more than a Gibbs slap to fix Tony this time.

…

After another hour or so at Michael's home, during which Ziva received further details on his service and other business she needed to take care of, Ziva and McGee left for the night. The drive back to the hotel was relatively quiet, as they were both thinking about the promised conversation they were to have.

As they pulled into the parking garage and Ziva shut off the car, she paused in place, then said, "I just need to know that you will not hold what I tell you tonight against me."

He frowned. "Just what happened with you and Tony?"

Ziva shook her head. "Let's go to our room first."

McGee continued to frown, but nodded and unclasped his seat belt, then opened the door and stepped out. He walked around the car to open the door for Ziva, but she had already opened her own door and was stepping out, giving him a tense smile.

The walk through the parking garage felt plodding, like they were walking through quicksand in cement shoes. Finally, they did reach the elevator, which took them to the front desk and after a brief interlude with the clerk, they had their keys and were ready to finish their talk.

When they entered the room, McGee rolled his suitcase to the end of the bed and plopped down, folding his hands patiently in front of him. "We're here," he said. "Gonna tell me what happened now?"

She didn't look at him, focusing on her suitcase instead. "Perhaps we should unpack first . . ."

"Aw, come on, Ziva," McGee groaned, growing impatient. "What, did you sleep with him or something?"

"Yes," Ziva responded automatically, and raised her eyes to McGee's shocked and hurt expression. He didn't make any attempt to speak, and Ziva was glad, because she was far from finished. "It didn't mean anything . . . or, I should say, I thought it did, but then I realized I didn't feel the way I thought I did, that all I really felt for Tony was physical attraction and a platonic love. He is my partner at work and a friend and . . . what we did was a mistake." She looked at McGee again, her eyes begging the forgiveness of which she was not willing to ask.

McGee didn't anything, just closed his eyes and lowered his head. Ziva felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, and all she really wanted to do was run away, hide her heart away, like she always did, but she couldn't this time. She _wouldn't_. This was different. This was McGee.

She moved around in front of him and knelt on the floor, so he would be forced to look at her when he opened his eyes. "Tim," she said softly, and he simply shook his head. She moved her hands to his, resting them gently on top of them . . . but he moved his hands out from under hers just as quickly. Ziva swallowed a lump in her throat and tried again. "Tim . . . please. I am not above begging . . ." She meant it as a joke, but she was serious at the same time -- this was too important to let go, and she couldn't bear the thought of him not being there right now . . . or at any point in the future.

"No, don't do that," McGee said, his first words to her in some minutes.

Ziva straightened hopefully. "Does that mean . . .?" she dared to ask, but he interrupted her before she could finish the question.

"No," he said softly. It wasn't said with anger or maliciousness, or even sarcasm. He just . . . said it. And then stood, forcing Ziva backwards. "I need a few minutes, okay?"

She nodded quickly. She would take that. She had to. It was her only hope of . . . what? Not losing him? She wasn't sure, but she hoped his few minutes would end with him realizing she was telling the truth and wanted to be with him. Though there was one surefire way of letting him know . . .

McGee had walked to the door already and had his hand on the knob when Ziva spoke, quietly, but loud enough so he could hear.

"I love you."

He paused for a moment . . . then turned the knob and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Ziva staring with an expression of grief on her face.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Sorry about the long delay! I lost inspiration, had a ton of other stuff going on, etc. I can't guarantee another update anytime soon, unfortunately, but rest assured that I will finish this story._

**Chapter Fourteen**

He left. She had told him how she felt, her real feelings, and he had still walked out of the room. Ziva finally tore her gaze from the door and climbed up onto the bed, not allowing herself to cry, but just lying there, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, the sound as loud as the roar of ocean waves.

Was this it? Had she just destroyed the one thing she was seeking to protect? As she lied there, nearly motionless, the comforter twisted in her fingers, her knuckles white, Ziva hoped not.

…

When McGee left the room, he headed for the elevator. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to get away. After traveling a few feet, he reached for the control box, intending to pull a Gibbs and switch off the car, but he drew his hand back before he could. This wasn't NCIS. Shutting the elevator down would just cause havoc, and he definitely wasn't in the mood for that right now.

So he decided to just keep riding, at least until he decided he was ready to face Ziva again. He was upset, sure, but he had never had any intention of not forgiving her. And when she said she loved him . . . walking out of that room was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. But he _was_ hurt and _did _need some time to think about what she had told him -- she slept with Tony! It didn't matter that it had happened before they were together; it was still a betrayal of his trust as her partner at NCIS. And while she assured him she didn't have romantic feelings for Tony, there was no telling how Tony felt. If he had feelings for Ziva . . . it would explain why he was so upset about her turning to him for comfort.

McGee leaned against the back wall of the elevator, his shoulders slumped. This entire situation had just gotten a lot more complicated.

…

"I just can't believe all this with Officer David and Agent McGee," Palmer said, pausing in his work to make the statement to Ducky.

Ducky, however, continued his work as he responded. "What is so unbelievable about it, Mr. Palmer?" he asked, poking around in a cadaver's chest cavity. "Ziva and Timothy are more alike than you realize. They are both good-hearted people, my boy."

Palmer gave a confused smile. "But Ziva's an assassin."

This time, Ducky did stop his work to respond, resting his hands on the edge of the autopsy table. "And why do you imagine she became one, Mr. Palmer?"

Palmer continued to look bewildered. "To kill people?" he posited.

"To protect good," Ducky corrected, his tone firm, yet not angry, but simply informative, "and to abolish evil." He lifted the hand holding his scalpel and pointed it at Palmer, who hopped back a step. "There is often more to a person than meets the eye." He returned to the cadaver.

"Well, yes, I know that, Doctor," Palmer responded, smiling. "It just surprised me, that's all. I never saw it coming."

"I don't imagine any of us did, Mr. Palmer," Ducky muttered, having traded his scalpel for a pair of tweezers and now holding up and examining a chunk of metal he had plucked from the victim's chest. "Evidence jar, please."

"Of course, Doctor," Palmer replied, walking to get a jar just as the doors to autopsy slid open.

Ducky let out a frustrated sigh at the sound. "Mr. Palmer, did you fail to turn on the sign?"

"No, Doctor."

"Then who . . ." Ducky started as he looked up, then trailed off as he saw who it was. "Oh. Anthony. Pardon me." He looked back at the corpse on the table, then up at Palmer. "Mr. Palmer!"

Palmer jumped. "Sorry, Doctor." He rushed over to the medical examiner, holding the evidence jar out to him.

Ducky placed the found item in the jar and Palmer capped it, then Ducky ordered, "To Abby, please." Palmer nodded and rushed from the room, leaving Tony and Ducky alone, aside from the corpse.

"So, what may I do for you?" Ducky asked, puttering around the room, stopping at the sink to wash his hands.

"Well, you can start by putting your dead guy away," Tony said, making a face.

Ducky chuckled, walking back to the body. "Of course. Where _are _my manners?" he hummed to himself as he returned to the body, closing it up at least temporarily, then covering it with a sheet. He stopped humming and looked to Tony. "Your assistance, if I may?" Tony looked slightly disconcerted, but walked over and grabbed one edge of the tray, helping the ME carry the body back to the drawer from where it had come. Once it was settled and the door shut behind it, Ducky turned back to Tony. "Now, how may I be of assistance?"

Tony looked down at the floor, jingling his keys in his pocket. He looked up when Ducky cleared his throat, and spoke. "Does it get any easier?"

Ducky sighed and gave Tony a comforting pat on the shoulder, before walking to the opposite side of the room. Tony didn't need to elaborate; Ducky knew just what he referred to. "That, my dear boy, is up to you." He motioned for Tony to take a seat on one of the other tables and after he did, continued speaking. "You cannot allow what has happened to create a rift between you and Timothy and Ziva. Jethro would not stand for it, for one. And they need support right now, not anger or resentment. If you care for Ziva at all, you will allow her to be happy."

"But with my best friend?" he asked, then as soon as he said it, held up a threatening finger. "Don't you dare tell him I said that."

Ducky chuckled and gave him another pat. "You wish for Timothy to be happy as well, yes?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess," he muttered, but at Ducky's raised eyebrow, admitted, "Of course, Ducky! The kid's like the little brother I never had."

"Yes, I can tell that from the amount of harassing you do to him," Ducky muttered, and Tony gave him a dazzling smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, but did a satisfactory job of hiding his pain.

"Hey, you can't superglue just anyone to his keyboard," he quipped, then his smile faltered only the slightly bit as he said, "Thanks, Ducky."

Ducky gave him a warm smile in return. "Anytime, my boy. Just remember," he walked to Tony and placed his hands on his shoulders, "the healing begins with you."

Tony nodded quickly and turned for the door, walking from the room before Ducky could see how much he had been affected.

But Ducky knew. Ducky always knew.

…

McGee stepped back into the elevator, preparing to return to the hotel room, to return to Ziva. He still felt angry, betrayed, sad, nervous . . . But above all else, he knew he loved Ziva, and he hoped she loved him just as much. Her sleeping with Tony was more than a minor indiscretion, but she'd insisted it didn't mean anything . . . and she said she loved him. He was inclined to believe her. She'd never lied to him before, at least not outright. He considered this situation more of a willful omission of facts than Ziva lying to him.

And if he was being honest and fair to her, he didn't blame her for not saying anything; they may have only recently revealed deeper feelings for each other, but they had a close friendship, too. Revealing something of that nature, of that sheer magnitude, held the possibility of ruining the trust between them, and affecting the dynamics of the team. Of course, his new relationship with Ziva didn't help team solidarity, either.

The elevator gave a ding and the doors slid open, waiting for McGee to step out. He held back for a minute, only moving forward and out of the elevator when the doors threatened to close again. The hallway felt a hundred miles long as he started down it, his mind cycling through all the possibilities of what could happen once he reached his destination. He hoped she wasn't crying. And he hoped he could still fix things. It was all up to him now.

He just hoped she wasn't lying when she had told him she loved him, and if she was telling the truth, she hadn't changed her mind.

McGee stopped in front of the door to his and Ziva's room. It was time to find out.

…

The whole time McGee had been gone, Ziva laid on the queen-sized bed, thinking about what would happen when he got back. Well, more like she laid there, then rolled onto her back, then her other side. She sat up and stared out the window, got up and walked over _to _the window, went into the bathroom to stare in the mirror. Nothing slowed her racing thoughts. All she could think about was what would happen when McGee got back.

Some of those possibilities were happy, -- no, wonderful, joyous, everything she could hope for -- full of hearts and flowers and kisses and declarations of love. But more often in her thoughts, things resulted in screaming or crying, blank stares and coldness. And in some versions, he didn't come back at all. That was the one that scared her most.

She was standing by the window when she heard the telltale click of the door opening. She stiffened, her heart speeding up in anxiety. It had to be McGee, and there were so many things she wanted to say to him, but she knew she had to wait for him to make the first move.

McGee let the door fall shut behind him, his gaze on Ziva. He watched her react to his return, but she didn't make any further moves. He waited a few moments until the silence finally became too much to take, then spoke.

"Ziva?"

She flinched slightly, but still didn't turn to face him.

McGee sighed and began walking toward her. He knew she was scared of what he was about to say, and the sound of his own heartbeat was drowning out any rational thoughts in his own head. He was terrified, but he knew it was something that needed to be said, and needed to be said now.

As he reached Ziva, he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. She looked up into his eyes, her expression trying hard not to be hopeful but failing. He gave her the most serious look he could muster and said . . .

"Ziva . . . I love you, too."


End file.
